


Will and Testament

by YurikoNeko (AlaxxisSade)



Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Death, Dialogue Heavy, Domestic Fluff, Family Feels, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Morbid thoughts, can you call this angst, i didn't mean for it to be that way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 10:10:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7840693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlaxxisSade/pseuds/YurikoNeko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every adult should have a will. If you're the Maou, you should have one even if you're not really an adult yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will and Testament

**Author's Note:**

> I finished this a lot faster than my usual rate owo Yay for inspiration!

“A will? But isn’t that… I don’t know… bad luck?”

                “Oh no no no, in the contrary, it is the requisite of a responsible adult.” Gurrier waves a finger at me from behind his almost-naked apron. I guess this is what I get for sneaking off to the bar at this hour. “You never know when tragedy will strike, and when it does, things can get messy. And I don’t just mean a head-rolling-down-the-hill, stomach-slashed-open, guts-spilling-on-the-ground kind of messy.”

                Yup, this is what I get. “T-that was too much detail…”

                “Ah, but imagine what would happen after that.”

                “After that?” When a kohi or a one-eyed boy comes to collect your remains?

                “Oh, yes. My poor bar will be taken to pieces. If that happens, my head would never stop rolling out of the sheer injustice.”

                In which case you would become a new urban legend.

                “That’s~ why~!” Josak takes out a long roll of paper from under his apron. Does he carry his will everywhere or did he think he would be showing it off to someone at work tonight? “The bar itself goes to Joe over there, but the vintage goes to Simon—I mean, Simone.”

                So it’s not Joe, but Jo?

                “And Tammy wants my wigs, but Kimmie gets the long blue dress—”

                I see, in that case you would really need to prepare a long wig—I mean, a long will.

                “…You know, Lord Weller was the one who started me on this.”

                “Conrad?”

                “Oh, yes, from that time in Luttenberg.” Josak leans back on the counter to reminisce, continuously wiping a shiny crystal glass. I wonder who that would go to. “We didn’t know if we would make it back, y’know, so he said we all had to write a letter in case we didn’t. Any survivors had to swear to deliver the letters back home and all that, you know how it goes. A lot of the family letters ended becoming like wills, I heard.”

                His hand pauses for a second, then he blows on the glass and wipes it one last time before putting it back on the shelf. “We delivered quite a few of those letters, the Captain and I. I don’t think I’m quite made out to be a postman, if you know what I mean.”

                “Yeah.” That is something I never want to have to do. “But the war’s over now, right? Why do you still keep yours?”

                “Oh, you don’t think this is the same one as back then, do you? I’ve changed mine every year since then.” Josak takes the will back from me and folds it up fondly. “It’s strange, you know? But I just keep getting more and more things to give away, and more and more people to give things away to.”

 

“‘--and besides, no war doesn’t mean you won’t die just as easily if a flower pot falls onto your head.’ That’s what he said.”

                “Really, that Gurrier,” Conrad says exasperatedly. “What was he thinking, talking to you about something like this?”

                “He has a point, though.” I swing my sword and try to sheathe it in one movement, like how the samurais do on TV. It’s harder than it looks-- I almost take my fingers off. “And he said it was your idea, so do you have a will?”

                “…No.”

                “Eh? That’s not right, a leader should lead by example—”

                “Oh, I wrote a letter back then. It’s just that I lived to get back home, and—the person the letter was addressed to wasn’t there to read it anymore, that’s all.” Conrad smiles to break the heavy atmosphere. “Anyway, everything I own belongs to Shin Makoku, so it’s not like I need a will to state who gets what.”

                “Eh, is that so?” I look at him suspiciously. “What about that rubber ducky you showed me that day?”

                “That was yours to start with, so of course you get it back.”

                “And your sword? You’ve had it for a long time, right?”

                “Hmm… I think Wolfram might like to have it. He used to ask me if he could touch it when he was younger.”

                “Much younger, I bet. And your baseball mitts?”

                “Ah, there’s this child in the team—”

                “You know, Conrad, that’s a lot of stuff. Don’t you think you should write it down?” I say with a completely straight face.

                Conrad can only smile wryly in response.

 

All that chatter got me seriously thinking, so the next day I settle down at my office during break time to write my own will.

                “Don’t you think you’re a bit young for that, Shibuya?”

                “You never know, anything could happen. Besides, I’ve nearly died more than once, I think. I never had my life flash before my eyes, though, so I’m not sure how close it was.”

                “If you put it that way… I can tell you from experience, you’re right, when you die you won’t know you died until you’re dead.”

                “That’s like a tongue-twister… And you mean you know from your memories, not from experience. Last I checked, Murata, you’re not dead yet.”

                “You’re right.” My best friend chuckles, pushing his glasses up his nose. “You’re always right.”

                “I am? I mean, of course I am. In that case, why don’t you join me?”

                “There’s no need, even if I die now, everything I have will just go back to my family.”

                “…You know, it’s funny, but that’s exactly what Wolf said.”

                Murata raises an eyebrow at me. “You asked your fiancé about his will? He’s going to think you’re after his money.”

                “Seriously!?”

                “Shibuya, please don’t look so alarmed, you’re forgetting that you’re the king again.”

                “But I don’t really have any money,” I say in frustration, “all this belongs to the Maou.”

                “You _are_ the Maou.”

                “Not forever, and the Maou’s things belong to the people anyway.” That’s why my will seems shorter than I had expected. Murata bends over to read it.

                “See, you’re leaving everything to your parents anyway.”

                “Everything on Earth. And that’s not true, see here? I’m leaving my encyclopedias to you.”

                “They’re either sports encyclopedias or brand new. You’re giving Lord Weller your baseball stuff?”

                “Yeah, he’s working really hard with the national team.”

                “Shibuya, who’s going to bring those things over after you’re dead?”

                “…Anyway, Josak seems to like my G-Shock, so I thought he could have that. It’s not like I would need to see the time up there, huh?  Or down there, depending.”

                “Shibuya, you’re the nicest person I know—”

                “Murata…”

                “—so I think King Enma would go easy on you for being the Maou.”

                “Please don’t remind me…” I hold my head, and decide to put more money into the shrine back home. “Anyway, I’m leaving the cute souvenirs I got overseas to Gwen, and some textbooks for Anissina, I think she would find them helpful—”

                “You don’t want to be the one that brings nuclear science to this world, Shibuya, do you? Ah, and what’s this, for Lord von Christ you’re leaving—”

                “Wait, don’t look--!”

                “—your underwear? Shibuya, I’ve misjudged you.”

                “N-no! I just thought he would like that— Wait, that’s not what I--!”

                “No, it’s my fault for judging you in the first place. Is that why you wrote this in Japanese, so Lord von Bielefeld couldn’t read this even if he found it? Don’t tell me, you forgot that no one knows Japanese in this world.”

                “That’s not true! I didn’t forget, and there is someone—you.” I take a deep breath. “Murata, I want you to be my lawyer.”

                “Just because my mom is a lawyer doesn’t mean I want to be one too.”

                “But you wanted to represent us at the Darco trial, if there was one. Wait, that’s beside the point.” I shake my head, and hand the paper over to him. “I just thought, ‘Murata’s the one I want to entrust all this with.’ So please?”

                “That’s not fair.” He sighs, but he takes it anyway. “Well, it’s not like anyone else could handle a will like this, huh? Transcending two worlds and all that. However…” His glasses glint in the sunlight coming through the windows. “Aren’t you forgetting some people?”

                “Hmm? I don’t think I need to give Sara anything—”

                “Shibuya, I’m talking about your fiancé and your daughter.”

                “Oh, that.” I scratch my head. “What are dads supposed to leave for their daughters anyway? Money? I don’t think Greta would need me to help her with that—and besides, anything I wanted her to have, I would give it to her as soon as possible, before I died. Even if she asked me for Morgif, I would give it to her, as long as she returns it when the next Maou asks for it.”

                “Don’t give a little girl something so scary. And are you purposely trying to avoid talking about your fiancé?”

                I fall silent. After a long while—

                “Murata… Do you think it’s okay if I abuse my powers just a little bit?”

 

“So I heard you’ve been going around giving things to people in your will.”

                That was what Wolf greeted me with when I entered our room at night. He’s back early today, already in his nightdress and rereading his favorite Poison Lady book in bed.

                “Word sure gets around,” I say, going to the huge closet and pulling it open. Half of it belongs to me – black uniforms that Günter had made, so I always feel as though I’m looking at my closet back home, some pajamas and a simple baseball uniform. The rest is his, his bright blue uniforms hanging from a bar, some more nightclothes, even his underwear neatly folded in a drawer.

                I pull my eyes away from his underwear drawer to take my own pajamas, infinitely glad he can’t read Japanese.

                “Dacascos was calling dibs on your pencil. Said something about his mother going ecstatic.”

                I don’t know what to think about that. It’s just a pencil, but on the other hand, I heard that his mother has some strange hobbies…

                “You’re not going to ask what you’ll get?” I ask from our shared toilet. After washing my face quickly, I reach for my toothbrush, my hand brushing against his. Despite the fact that mine is black –Günter again-- and his blue, we still get them mixed up sometimes in the morning, or even at night, if we’re especially tired.

                My toothbrush is slightly wet. I squeeze on the toothpaste and put it into my mouth without wetting it first. It’s always good to save water.

                “Why should I care what I get after you die, as long as I have you while you’re alive?”

                I choke on the foam, and cough into the sink. It smells like his soap—we usually bathe in the larger Maou’s baths down the corridor, but he does wash his face here before sleeping.

                “Wimp, why do you sound like you’re dying already?”

                Ah, his words are as cruel as ever, but he’s outside the toilet in a second, concern clearly written on his face. I cough once more, and smile helplessly at him.

                “Geez, how can you say such things so easily…”

                “Hmph, you should have gotten used to it by now. After all, I’m your fiancé.”

                “Yeah, yeah…”

                I know that. That’s why I couldn’t figure what to give you.

                If this were Japan, the spouse should get half of everything if there wasn’t a will written. But the thing is, like I told Murata, most of my stuff isn’t really mine. Not even Ao, though come to think of it I should ask to leave Greta in charge of him in case anything happens to me.

                So that leaves the question, what does Wolf get?

                “…that brooch?”

                “Huh?”

                “You’re not listening again!” Wolfram pinches my cheek angrily, but it doesn’t hurt as much as I pretend it does. “I said, what do you plan on doing with the brooch I gave you?”

                “Oh, that? I’ll keep it, of course.” Wolfram’s brooch, Conrad’s pendant—all these personal gifts, I wouldn’t give them away to anyone. “If all goes well, I’d like to be buried with it, to be honest.”

                “…You know what, I’ve changed my mind. I don’t like you talking about all this either.”

                But just before he turns off the lights with a flick of his wrist, I thought I saw his face turn red.

                Soon enough he’s fast asleep, snoring like a cartoon character and throwing his arm over me. I just lie there for a while longer, sinking into the pillow, trying to stop his from hogging the covers, on this bed that we’ve shared almost every day since I came to this world.

                In this room that we’ve shared.

                As the 27th Maou, it should be okay for me to be selfish, just this once, and ask to leave this room and everything in it to Wolf, right? This room that’s become used to him as much as me, that belongs to both of us, that smells of him and has his mark over every inch of it.

                I close my eyes, giving in to sleep and his advances.

                As his fiancé, the least I could do is make sure he can come back to this room even after I’m gone.

**Author's Note:**

> I just realized the crack tag has been missing from my fics for a while now, haha, though I think the gags are --hopefully-- still there? 
> 
> I have one more idea that's (almost) pure crack, though~


End file.
